Morning People
by PatronSaintOfBEGA
Summary: Never underestimate the power of Whole Grain Goodness! BEGA get together over the most important meal of the day. Starring unshaven Garland, herbal tea, increasingly random tshirts, and no grapefruit forks. Review and I love you!


**Morning People**

The first time, everyone had shown up fully dressed. Showered, primped, gelled, and affecting polite smiles across the table. And they'd all left the moment business was concluded.

This process repeated several times. Then evolution struck; Mystel sauntered in one morning, maskless and with a t-shirt in place of his usual tunic-ish regalia. Nothing was said, but on the following day, everyone wished each other good morning around smothered yawns.

A couple of days later, Garland slyly read the paper. Moses adopted the lower half of a tracksuit.

Of course, Ming Ming saw the opportunity not to be missed, and turned up the next morning in what could have been a negligee. Or possibly, with some imagination, a strange and novel form of sleepwear. No one appeared bothered. Moses, having mastered the coffee machine, asked for a show of hands.

After that, the milk jug made no appearance, and orange juice soon reverted back to carton form.

Then Garland had forgotten to shave. Mystel - hair in a ponytail and trawling _everywhere_ - had eyed the stubble assailing his captain's lower jaw, and remarked blithely upon its presence. The newspaper was put down, slowly. Explanations about genetics followed.

From then onwards, he considered unshaven _de rigeur_, though strictly for that portion of the day. Nightwear seemed fashionable also.

The margarine knife was, ultimately, shared. Everyone had spoken in the single debate concerning it, too.

By this time, all but minimal cosmetics had been abandoned. Ming Ming expressed, cautiously, a preference for hot chocolate in the mornings. Her hair contained only the vaguest suspicion of spray, and Moses had exchanged his jacket for a worn old navy towelling bathrobe.

Some peanut butter of mysterious origin was present on the table the next day, still in its jar. A conversation had sprung up about it, theories idly batted about between the table, and the high barstools behind the counter, where two of the conversants perched. To general surprise, Garland had nearly been late for something-or-other because of it.

A few similar days passed, and an air that nobody could quite identify settled over the room. It was different from the lunchtime cafeteria, that was for sure.

Eventually, it was verifiable that only Garland actually owned a complete set of nightwear. Moses took the uniform of unmatched t-shirt and sweatpants; Mystel favoured an overlarge hockey jersey paired with also overlarge, star-print boxers. Brooklyn had, without warning, begun showing up in dark plaid pajama pants and a series of increasingly random t-shirts, most of which seemed sized for someone distinctly taller and rather broader in the shoulders. Even Mimi had stopped bothering, and appeared in a Hello Kitty vest, purple velour tracksuit bottoms, and a Ritz hotel dressing gown.

In retaliation, the team captain neglected to fasten his hair back after that.

The herbal teabags, Moses admitted to having bought. He didn't feel bad, though, not when his small blonde teammate plunked down a Care Bears mug with _that _amount of enthusiasm and asked for one of the same.

There were thoughts about bringing in a rule regarding the use of cutlery when eating, but the proposal was abandoned. The rule about glasses and cartons stood, though. Mimi leaned on the counter, singing along to a radio tune in an idle fashion, and the comics page was briefly squabbled over.

For a couple of days, maybe, everything was a bit quieter, a little tense. Following that, there were a few conspicuous absences. Someone accidentally broke a plate, more than once.

By the last morning, however, conversation was humming again, the radio on. Mimi bobbed her head along to the beat, but it turned out Moses knew that song too, and whirled her around by the hand unexpectedly. She decided to teach him to jive, sooner or later. Mystel had cunningly concealed the sports pages out of no motive other than mischief, but was at least _cutting _his toast-n-Lucky-Charms before eating it, so Garland forgave him. At least, until he discovered the total absence of grapefruit forks. Brooklyn swore _he_ knew nothing about it, lounging sideways across an armchair, eating Cheerios out of the box with one hand and steadying a cup of strong black coffee with the other.

Nobody went to get dressed for quite some time.

The day after, the room was empty, except for cutlery and plates and table.

A week after that, it was converted into an office.

Some while later and a considerable distance away, the older Tzebult siblings were startled by _five_ disorderly teens, a lack of matching pajamas, and the curious absence of grapefruit forks at breakfast.

This time, everyone was in on it.

**NOTES:**

**Um, yes. This has been buzzing around for a while as well. Inspired by the really uncomfortable wooden armchair in my kitchen. And coffee. Who doesn't love coffee? feather-duster lives on the stuff, folks. **

**Oversized pajamas are comfy. **

**Lucky Charms are cereal, as far as feather-duster knows, thought they don't exist in Britain. Apparently they're good on toast. The Cheerios, however, are what feather-duster has been eating for the last week, and she'd like them back now.**

**Grapefruit forks are ridiculous, but Garland's family would probably be concerned by their absence. Hee hee.**

**Mystel undoubtedly owns a Care Bears mug, more than slightly used. Why? Try it on, it fits fine!**

**Past tenses are variable. We're going for an air of uncertainty about what exactly happened and when, here, people.**

**Review and you get the Tzebult family's entire set of grapefruit forks. And some Cheerios!**


End file.
